GiftWrapped
by Razzmatazzy
Summary: Cloti one-shot, post AC. Cloud gets home from a long day at his mercenary job killing things and looks forward to relaxing for the night. And... wait, where is his shirt? It was here just a minute ago...


_(Author's Note: This is one of the first one-shots I've ever written. Once again, it was based on a 'picture prompt' which is basically a fanart I saw that I thought had a story behind it and I decided to write it. The picture that inspired this is I cannot link to, but you've probably seen it if you are a Cloti fan. It's a simple image of Tifa, wearing Cloud's shirt, about to get a kiss from Cloud, who is shirtless and actually unzipping the shirt she's wearing (no, it isn't an explicit image, nothing is actually 'showing'). :P Despite the content of the image there is no smut. I always think it takes more skill and wordcraft to _suggest_ what happens instead of actually describing the "deed". What do you think? Also, this piece is based off my long fanfic, which isn't posted yet because I'm still tweaking it, but in it Cloud has a mercenary job. This one-shot is dedicated to my faithful reader, DarthMittens. You're one in a million! Please feel free to comment and enjoy!)_**  
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**Gift-Wrapped**

Cloud's routine when he got home after a day of running around and killing various creepy-uglies, was quite simple.

Step one, eat whatever delicious thing Tifa put in front of him.

Step two, after lavishing her with praise (and probably playing grab-ass at the same time), take a shower, which by then he would be in dire need of.

Step three, return to the bar for a relaxing drink of cold water while trying to pay attention to the news.

And finally, step four, sleep, and its own minor routine.

It was a very simple routine. In fact, he looked forward to its relaxing predictability every day. After spending hours jumping at the slightest sound and throwing magic around like an anvil, some monotonous, boring tradition of doing things was incredibly welcoming. Tifa and even Marlene, when she visited, seemed to be tickled seeing him on his predictable route. Seeing him traipsing on his worn way was a sign that all was well. The last time his routine was messed up, an insult had been given, offense was taken, and they were being billed for repairs to the water main the next morning.

It hadn't been a good day.

Today, on the other hand, was perfect. Everything went smoothly. He came home to be greeted by an always cheerful Tifa, and he let himself find a moment's comfort in her greeting. Marlene was with Barret, and Denzel was on an week-long field trip to Junon. Dinner was quiet without them there, but no less incredibly tasty.

As was expected of him - another part of his routine - he relayed the day's events to Tifa. He found this exposition rather welcome and not at all forced. It not only gave him something to talk about, but he felt a sense of purpose behind his day that had been sorely lacking from his life the last year or so, when the Stigma wept black blood from his skin. He relished the satisfaction and... well, the _rightness_behind it all.

When he was through, he listened to Tifa's own daily adventures and contributed his own thoughts, when needed. After dinner, he lavished her with praise for her cooking talents and then helped her wash the dishes.

For a moment, alone as they were in the bar, the two adults were hardly distinguishable from children. In a particularly high mood, Cloud had playfully splashed Tifa and she had returned the favor. Before either knew it, they were gleefully splashing each other with sudsy water, trying to tickle each other into submission while Cloud desperately tried to fend off the detachable water faucet which Tifa tried to hose him with.

The water battle ended in a truce when a glass nearly broke from all their roughhousing. They reconciled with a rather prolonged kiss, and Tifa got in a last tickle just as he was heading upstairs.

Cloud went to his room, discarded his dirty, sweat-stained clothes in their appropriate pile for washing later, gathered up a fresh set (identical to the first, as it were) and headed off to take his shower.

Now here is where, for the first time in months, his routine was broken. Quite oblivious to anything being out of the ordinary, Cloud toweled himself dry, dressed quickly - he forewent the socks at this part - and reached for his shirt: which wasn't there.

It took him a moment to realize it was gone. He searched for a moment, but to no avail - it had not slid off the vanity, it had not been kicked behind the door. It was simply gone. This left him quite puzzled - he was positive he'd grabbed it.

Rubbing the towel over his hair once more, he opened the door and walked out, shirtless.

"Tifa?" he called.

"Yes?" Her voice came from the direction of the bedrooms.

"Did you see my shirt in the hall?"

"No, why?"

"I can't find it." He pushed open the door of the laundry room and glanced around. Nothing. "The hell?" he muttered to himself. What'd it do, grow legs? Scratching his head in confusion, he swiftly checked the bathroom again. Still no sign of his heavy-knit blue shirt; it had not crept in while his back was turned.

More confused than ever, he walked to his room and pushed open the door, saying, "Ti-" Then he stopped dead in his tracks.

There, sitting on edge of his bed, was Tifa, wearing his missing shirt.

Wearing _only_his shirt.

She sat on the edge with one long, shapely leg folded beneath her, and the toes of the other just lightly touching the floor. She appeared to be in the act of stroking her hair over one shoulder, her arms pinning the shirt to her lush figure in a very interesting way. It was unzipped just to that right distance to not really show anything but whetting the appetite to see more in a excruciatingly tantalizing way. A single bedside lamp cast deep shadows that tempted the imagination. The scene looked so much like a guilty fantasy that Cloud was actually dumbstruck by it, nearly ashamed for walking in on her.

(Tifa, however, was quite unaware of just how striking she appeared to him. She had been stroking her hair because it had long been a nervous habit of hers ever since she was little. When she had first snuck into the bathroom while Cloud obliviously showered behind the curtain, she had no idea just how _huge_it would be when she put it on. She'd clamped her arms to her sides simply to prevent it from gaping too much. Even though her entire presentation had been - more or less - accidental, at least it did the job.)

Tifa smiled a secret, feminine smile. "I found your shirt, Cloud."

Cloud rubbed his ear nervously. "I uh, _hem!_need that." He pointed hesitantly at the shirt.

She raised an eyebrow coyly, fingers toying with the zippered edges. "Then come and get it."

Cloud felt a smile spread across his face as he shut the door and sat down in front of Tifa, mimicking her position. "Damn, Tifa," he said as he drew her in for a kiss. During that long kiss, he reached up and slowly unzipped the shirt, while Tifa drew him closer by his belt.

At the last moment, one of them reached over and turned off the light.


End file.
